Making New Memories
by daltonfightclub
Summary: These weren't 'just trophies' but little pieces of a puzzle Kurt never knew existed. They were as much a part of Blaine as Kurt was and suddenly he felt an overwhelming desire to put those pieces together. Light daddy!angst ahead.


**A/N:** So Blaine's trophies have been haunting me since I first saw them in his room awhile back. After Michael aired, I had to stop fighting it and just let it the daddy angst consume me. This is completely unbeta'd. You can catch me on tumblr at daltonfightclub. Reviews/feedback are always helpful! xx

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim to (nor do I actually) own any rights to the characters contained herein. If I did, Blaine would have a lot more character development and a heck of a lot more daddy angst :)

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><p>Kurt traced his fingers over smooth lines, strong and solid underneath his touch, perfect and unmarred. Beautiful, in an unconventional way. Unapologetic and proud in a way Kurt had never known. It was almost as if he was collecting little pieces of Blaine, memories stored away years ago, buried under layers and layers of expectation. It was comforting, Kurt thought, to see and feel these parts of Blaine that no one else knew.<p>

"What are you doing?" Blaine questioned from the doorway, holding out a glass of diet soda he'd just retrieved from the kitchen.

"Oh you know," Kurt traced one last pattern over the cool, solid base, "just exploring."

"My trophies? You're exploring _my trophies?_" Blaine asked incredulously.

"Yes?"

"Well, there's really not much to discover," Blaine waved his hand in resignation as he moved closer to the dresser, slipping an arm around Kurt's waist. "They're just trophies and to be honest, I'm not even sure why I still have them."

Kurt thought he must have misheard. Sure, he knew there was more to life than prize ribbons and gold medals, solos and accolades; but these weren't just consolation prizes for participation. They weren't just _"nice try"_ or _"better luck next time."_ These were mementos from years of work and dedication, a ghostly reminder of childhood dreams since forgotten. These weren't _just trophies_ but little pieces of a puzzle Kurt never knew existed. They were as much a part of Blaine as Kurt was and suddenly he felt an overwhelming desire to put those pieces together.

"Why'd you stop?" Kurt couldn't help but let the question tumble from his lips as his eyes traced over the small metal plaques. _First place - Midwest Dressage Invitational. Ohio All State First Team - Singles Tennis. Ohio State Junior Vocal Competition - Outstanding Soloist._ And Kurt's favorite, a silver microphone gifted to Blaine when he transferred earlier in the semester: _Blaine Anderson - Most Valued Warbler._

Kurt always knew Blaine was exceptionally talented, Kurt wouldn't settle for anything less; but seeing his accomplishments collected in plain sight was almost unhinging. There was so much Kurt didn't know, so many memories, so many moments missed. He instinctively tugged Blaine a little closer, letting his head rest on his shoulder, feeling the steady breaths build and fall, filling the room with a familiar stillness.

"It's a long story." Blaine resigned, staring blankly in front of him. This was the moment, Kurt recognized, when Blaine made the decision to retreat back into his safe place, the moment he decided that keeping people out was easier than letting them in. He was intimately familiar with this moment and usually let it slide, hesitant to push the limits, unsure where his own boundaries fell.

But not this time. It seemed too important, almost as if this was the last closed door and the key had just been thrust into his hands. Kurt didn't want to miss his chance to unlock the tarnished chains wrapped around Blaine's heart.

"Well, it's a good thing I've got time," Kurt smiled, small but reassuring, gesturing towards the bed.

Blaine exhaled one last breath before settling on the cold covers, crossing his arms across his torso.

"It was after I got to Dalton," he began, closing his eyes to steady himself. "It was a few months after the whole Sadie Hawkins debacle. I had stopped for awhile, I had to really..it's not like you can just get back on a horse after having your bones broken like that." Kurt winced instinctively; they'd talked about this before but Blaine had always managed to skim over the details, as if ignoring them would somehow make the scars fade or soothe the residual hurt.

"But I was doing better, you know. Much better. I had just joined the Warblers and was finally singing again and god, it felt _great, _Kurt. I was making friends and settling in and even though the classes were more difficult and the nightmares hadn't stopped, I was finally feeling better. Safer. I even picked up fencing," he paused as Kurt scooted closer, taking Blaine's hand in his own. "I was going to sign up for this vocal competition, my first one since the attack. So I asked my dad for the entry fee, like I usually did."

"What'd he say, Blaine?" Kurt prompted tentatively. He hated these moments the most, when the disparity became glaringly obvious, when he felt guilty for being blessed with a loving and accepting father. He hated these moments but what he resented most was the fact that Blaine wasn't granted the same favor.

"I think he was just trying to protect me, really. I mean, it makes sense, right? The kids at my old school, well, it was a lot like McKinley. No slushies, but the words and fists - those they had. It was really for my own good, now that I think about it."

"Blaine," Kurt warned.

"He said that maybe if I'd tried harder, tried to be less flamboyant, less.._faggy_, he said maybe if I tried to keep it to myself than it never would have happened," Kurt could see the tears prickling at the corners of Blaine's eyes, his voice hoarse and slightly shaky. "He said it was _my_ fault that they beat me up, it was my fault that I played tennis instead of football, dressage instead of soccer. He said he never would have let me join the chorus if he knew how it would influence my _'choices.'_ He said all of that, just casually to my face like it was the most obvious conclusion and he couldn't believe I'd missed it."

"Oh Blaine," Kurt's voice cracked. He closed the last bit of distance between them, pulling Blaine in, wrapping him in his arms and enveloping him with his love, giving him every little piece of his heart and soul, hoping to help fill the gaps.

"So I stopped," he choked out, over Kurt's shoulder. "I never went back to the barn or to the country club where I taught tennis lessons. I dropped out of fencing and never signed up for that competition. I admitted that he was right and let it all go."

"And the Warblers?"

"I tried to quit," Blaine murmured into Kurt's now-damp chest. "I tried but Wes and David wouldn't let me. They dragged me to practice and locked me in the rehearsal room - I'm pretty sure they rigged my first audition thinking that a solo would be the bait they needed to keep me around longer."

"Did it work?" Kurt asked playfully, pulling back to wipe a salty trail of tears from Blaine's cheek.

"I guess it did," Blaine let a smirk pull at his lips. "But I'm really glad they made me stay," he added, suddenly earnest.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Kurt thought he knew the answer, but humored him anyway.

"Because," he cupped Kurt's face, letting his warm breath ghost across the backs of his hands. "If they hadn't, I probably never would have met you."

"Hmm..." Kurt considered, remembering back to that day in March when he realized just how little he cared about competitions and titles, prizes and trophies. He knew it wasn't enough, it certainly didn't make up for the years Blaine lost with his father, the dreams broken by ignorance, the opportunities missed for fear of judgement. Kurt knew that he wasn't - and could never be - Blaine's _everything._

But as they huddled close together in a safe and quiet place, a retreat where they could make their own memories, he thought maybe, just maybe, it could be _enough_, at least for now.

"Well," Kurt concluded, "That beats a lousy trophy, don't you think?"


End file.
